Each time there is less <br />Just a little bit less. <br />The gravestone seems more worn; <br />And the rain colder. <br />All I see is the ruins of flowers, <br />The fresh ones we bring today. <br />Iris, carnations; I didn't know you well enough <br />To know which to take. <br />Then we drive from the place <br />Where Vancouver Remembers <br />Back to a bleak house <br />My home is still with you. <br />We drive <br />And the rain washes away more memory.<br /><br />Liz Annson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mountain-view-cemetery/
